#sabthewriter

[sabthewriter]

Intrusive thought:

I don’t think I’m anyone’s first choice

I don’t think I know anyone who would pick me

Unreservedly

Time after time.

Am I not consistent enough,

Unreliable?

Not sincere or genuine enough?

But stop.

If I dipped into the mind of either a stranger or friend.

They probably have the same thoughts

Who would pick them?

Would I pick them?

Time after time?

And I realised that

No,

I wouldn’t.

Not because they’re incomplete

Or lacking a righteous virtue.

But because they aren’t my everything,

They need not be, neither I them.

We’re all someone and something to someone.

Even if it’s a stranger or ourselves.

And such simplicity is all we need.

[sabthewriter]

Make time to read,

Strum the same chords over and over

on that beaten-up guitar,

Write poetry,

Doodle in the margin,

Sit in the sunshine.

[sabthewriter]

You’re hurting me

The lack of trust

The biting words

The scalding looks

The judgemental sighs

As you roll your eyes

[sabthewriter]

If I sit here and wait,

Wait for you to make up your mind

Whether I’m worth it

Whether I’m loveable

Whether I’m the one you’ll stick around for,

I’ll be gone.

A skeleton of me left behind,

My dignity will have withered away,

My feisty nature departed,

My independence scattered

To the four corners of the earth.

I can wait.

But I won’t be myself when you return.

[sabthewriter]

Tell me what love is?

I’ve heard you explain in careful words,

All that it is not.

But how does it look?

What should it do?

Tell me.

How will I recognise it on a frozen spring evening?

Because I say,

A thought is not enough.

Your thinking of me, won’t warm me,

And the fondness that you hold for me,

Won’t remove the tremor from my bones.

As you reminisce on how I’ve charmed you,

The lingering winter will rob the life of me.

Love is a fire,

But one that can only warm a soul, when it is shared.

[sabthewriter]

It’s okay, 

You don’t have to be able to relate.

This is my story,

with all the misplaced punctuation,

and mispelled words.

Paragraphs unstructured,

themes and plots skewed.

It’s a mess, 

but it’s mine.

[sabthewriter]

Sometimes the road I walk is lonely,

Littered with difficulties that wear me out.

There are stones and rocks in my path,

The pavings uneven, and I’m barely stable.

But, sometimes I just need a chalk.

To draw up a new map,

So I can hopscotch over my worries,

Skip and jump over the problem,

Dance through the storm.

Perspective, it’s all in the perspective.

[sabthewriter]

That feeling of immortality

When the sun sits high in the sky,

And the wind whistles in your ears,

And the world flies by in pictures,

Through the window we look through.

Like yesterday and yesterday,

In just a second it’s behind us,

So far behind us.

And the road is an open plain ahead